


Forge Ahead

by Mokupele



Category: Cape High Series - R.J. Ross
Genre: Blood, Child Abuse, Strong Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokupele/pseuds/Mokupele
Summary: Ren Falkonskold is a young woman just coming into her powers. Life isn't easy for a growing super, though. Especially when her powers come with more than she bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find an illegal fighting ring? It’s really hard, as it turns out. Know what makes it harder? Being a thirteen year old girl. Creating swords with super powers tends to get people talking, though. 

I pull up the map on my phone, making sure I’m in the right place. It looked like an abandoned office, but everyone I talked to agreed. This is where the dudes who run the super fighting ring hang out. When they’re not watching low tier supers fight each other. I wonder what they’ll think of someone whose a bit tougher.

“You must be lost, little girl,” the goon outside the door says. I grin at him as I stride up, cracking my knuckles. “Ain’t no Chuck E Cheese round here.”

He’s big, even for a norm, a non-super. Looks like he’s about to bust out of his suit. Also he’s wearing a suit. With a bald head and a single pierced ear. Did he just wake up and say to himself ‘you know, I wanna look like a cliche’?

“Chuck E Cheese, good one,” I drawl. As if I’d be caught dead in that rat house. Their pizza is terrible. I start to put my hair in a ponytail as I near him. It’s pretty long, and I’m wanna keep it out of my face in the coming fight. “This where the fightings at?”

“Look kid, I don’t know what you’re looking for but it ain’t here,” he growl, “Turn around and walk away before you get hurt.”

“You’re adorable,” I taunt. I can tell I at the very least annoyed him, the way his fists clench. “You caught me in a good mood, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you let me through that door, or I’ll use your head to open it.”

He lets out a barking laugh, clearly not taking me seriously. His funeral. He reaches towards me, probably intending to pick me up and toss me away. Like that’s gonna happen. 

I grab his arm and spin, swinging his body around. He chokes out a surprised sound as he’s sent flying into the door, leaving a goon sized hole in it.

“Tried to warn him,” I say with a shrug. The room inside has fallen silent, which means it’s time for my dramatic entrance. I rear back and kick the door in, and it hits the inside wall with a satisfying boom.

“Hi there,” I say cheerily, walking through the door. The mook I trashed is sprawled in a crushed table, holding his bleeding head and groaning. Four skeevy looking guys in suits are lounging on chairs and couches. Slicked back hair, fancy suits, too much jewelry. All around, more cliches. They’re looking from me to the down man in various states of amusement and anger. Each of them have at least two thugs behind them, and they’ve all reached for guns. Most of them relax when they catch sight of me. Not that I really blame them

I hardly look threatening. Five foot nothing with a blond ponytail. Ripped jeans, second hand Joan Jett t-shirt. Hardly the picture of intimidation. Of course, I did just toss a grown man through a door, so maybe they should take me at least a little serious.

“Get lost kid, before you get hurt,” one of the slick men say.

“Funny, he said the same thing,” I laugh, jerking my thumb at the groaning man. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I’m looking for the super fights. This the right place?”

One of the men, a pale guy with black hair, jerks his head towards me. Jeez, cliche city. His pair of goons start my way, probably intending to throw me out. These guys aren’t very smart. 

I clap my hands together and feel my powers start to work. As I pull them apart, a metal rod is formed. A bo staff, about as tall as I am. I flourish it and give the thugs the classic come at me wave. Oh yeah, I’m cool.

They hesitate, not liking my display of powers. Maybe they aren’t as dumb as I thought.

“Are you guys seriously scared of a little girl?” their boss asked. They both scowl and rush me. Maybe not so smart after all.

The first one swings a meaty fist. Guess they’re done playing nice now that they know I’m a cape. I duck under the blow and slam my staff into his gut. He grunts and stumbles back, but I don’t let up. I hit him in the back of the knees, and he goes down. A kick between the shoulder blades, and he’s done. He falls with a groan, and makes no move to get back up.

I’ve never been in a fight before, not a real fight. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and I can’t help but grin. It’s so easy, so natural. It has to be part of my powers, there’s no way fighting is this easy.

The second goon takes me a bit more seriously. Maybe too seriously. He reaches for a gun inside his jacket and I feel my heart skip a beat. I haven’t had a chance to test it, but I’m pretty sure I’m not bulletproof.

With inhuman speed, I rush forward, thrusting my staff to knock his gun away. It skitters across the floor and he stares at me, a little afraid.

“Now that’s just cheating,” I say, smirking at him. The click of several guns wipes it clean off my face, though. Every mook in the room has pulled their gun at me. I drop my staff and raise my arms, feeling my heart flutter, “C’mon guys, can’t we settle this the old fashion way? Six against one. I’ll only use one hand!”

“You want to fight, kid?” one of the bosses asks. He’s the sleeziest looking, all slick and pointy. Like a greased up weasel.

“Yeah. Kinda what I’ve been asking for from the get go,” I say, “I am in the right place, right? You guys run the fights?”

The weasel man nodded, grinning a little. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“Why you talking to this bitch? Dust her!” one of the other bosses barks. The weasel waves his hand, quieting him.

“Man, look at her. This is the real deal. A super. Look at her eyes,” Weasel says. “If you guys are too stupid to take her, she’ll be my fighter.”

“My eyes?” I ask. They’re just blue, nothing special.

“Yeah, that whole … glowy thing,” he says, waving his hand in my direction.

I dig out my phone so I can look at myself in the camera. My eyes are glowing gold, like molten pools of metal. Pride and joy fill me as I turn my head from side to side, taking in my new look. There are only a few supers with looks like this, and all of them are powerful. Oh yeah, I’m super cool.

“What’s your name, kid?” Weasel asks. At this point, the goons have backed off. Though, most of them are still eyeing me warily.

“Ren,” I say, “Ren Johnson.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah kid, your cape name. If you’re gonna fight, you gotta have a cape name. Like how the big names got. Avalanche and Flameblast and stuff. Ya know?”

Oh, right. I probably shouldn’t have told them my real name. Whoops.

“My cape name?” I hum, trying to think of something that doesn’t suck. I feel a tugging at the back of my mind, and my mouth seems to work on my own. “Call me Valkyrie.”

I’m not sure where it came from, but I like it. It fits me, my budding powers.

I am the Valkyrie.


	2. Chapter 2

“In this corner, we have our returning champion. Fourteen times undefeated, back for number fifteen. The diminutive dervish! The Blond Blade! The angel of death sent from the halls of Valhalla! Vaaaaaaaalkyrie!”

The announcer draws out my name and I roll my eyes. 

“Valhalla isn't real. Y'all know that, right?” I ask. 

“Don't be stupid, it's just hype. Now get out there. Make me some money, kid,” The weasley man says. I never bothered to learn his name. So he's just Weasel to me. 

He gives me a shove towards the ring, and the urge to hurt him is almost too strong to resist. It'd be so easy, norms are so fragile. I can see a hundred different ways to break him, without needing to create a weapon. But that would be bad. I'm breaking enough rules just being here. If I hurt a norm?

I suppress a shudder when I think of the hell that would bring down on me. No way. 

The crowd roars as I step into the ring. There's gotta be over a hundred people here! I grin at them and do a little backflip. Just to show off. Hey don't judge me! If you could do backflips you'd show off too!

“And in this corner, hoping to send the champ back to school-!”

Seriously? We get it, I'm a kid. Don't need to milk it, dude.

“The frozen fiend! The terror of the tundra! Coooooooold Snaaaaaaaaap!”

My opponent joins me in the ring. He's taller than I am, but that's not a shocker. I've grown in the last month or so, but only a couple inches. His hair is like straw, pale and thin. It's his build that surprises me the most. 

“Seriously dude? How do you get fat as a cape?” I scoff. Okay, maybe I'm being a little unfair. He's only a little chunky, but super genes are supposed to make you like, really good looking. For whatever reason. Besides, it's not like I'm here to make friends. 

“Haha, real original,” he drawls. His voice is on the deeper end, but not super deep. A bit nasally, too. “Did your mom write that insult for you?”

Oh no. Oh no he did not just say the m word. I narrow my eyes and glare at him, and I feel a familiar rush of power. I know my eyes have turned gold again. I create a staff with my powers to create a staff, seemingly pulling it out of my palm. 

“Oh I'm gonna knead the shit out of you, dough boy,” I say, my voice low and cold. Already, my brain is working on the best way to bring him down. Knees? Eyes? Maybe the throat?

“Ready? Fight!”

The bell dings and the crowd roars again. I don't hesitate, rushing him. I want to take him down, and I want it to be fast and brutal. Normally I'd play around with him a little, show off. But not this time. He's about to get a heaping helping of mat.

He takes a step back and points his palms at me. My brain screams that he's about to use his powers, not that it takes a genius to see that. I leap straight up as ice shoots from his hands. Thanks to my super strength, I nearly reach the ceiling. His ice ray or whatever putters out before it can reach the audience. Good. I'd be pissed if he got kicked out for that. 

“You think you're hot shit? Take out a few low end nobodies and suddenly you're on fire? I think you need to chill!” He fires another blast at me as I fall. I've no intention of becoming a Ren-cicle. I throw my staff at him like a spear, and it hits the ice dead on. Instead of hitting me, the blast freezes my staff into a solid chunk of ice. It falls with a heavy thump. I land behind it with a much quieter thump. 

“Really? Chill? We're doing puns now?” I ask. Again, I clap my hands together, but this time I pull a sword free. My stomach growls, complaining. Using my powers always makes me hungry and I'm not sure how many more weapons I can make. 

“What? Too cool for witty banter? Or are you just freezing up?” he teases. The more this guy talks the more I wanna break his bulbous nose. 

He braces himself and blasts with both hands. Clearly a strain on him. The blasts surrounds the tiny iceberg that was once my staff. It extends around it, creating a tunnel. He's trying to trap me!

“Oh hell no,” I snarl. My winning streak isn't going to end here. Not to this loser. I launch off the ice and fly at the ropes, digging my sword into the ground to flip around. Then I use the ropes to launch myself at Cold Snap, ready to hit him with the flat of my sword. Why did I bother making it sharp?

He dodges to the side with an agility a boy his size really should not have. Guess he's got super genes after all. 

“Sorry to give you the cold shoulder,” he laughs. My legs are wrapped in cold as he hits me from behind. I'm frozen from the waist down, and I land about as gracefully as a seal launched out of a cannon. 

“Face it kid. Everyone you've fought till now is just the tip of the iceberg. I'm the king of cold and now the king of the ring.” I can hear him walking towards me. His heavy footfalls moving so he can gloat more. Probably with more shitty puns. 

My blood starts to boil. I can't lose. I can't fail. I'm strong enough. I'm not a failure, damnit!

_ Stop fighting your anger. It's your greatest weapon by far. Use it. Embrace it. Let it empower you.  _

“You slipped up. Got cold feet. You had a good run, but in the end you were just a way for me to break the ice,” he laughs. He's standing above me, grinning a stupid smug grin. 

_ You are the Valkyrie. You do not lose. Stop holding back! _

“Well. Nothing left but to put you on ice,” he says with a shrug. I can't move my legs, and the weight of the ice is too much for me to do anything but crawl at him. He calmly walks backwards, staying out of my reach. 

“Well, it was ice to meet you. But there'll be snow rematch for you,” he points his palms at me, that smug, cocky smile plastered all over his ugly mug. My legs are literally frozen, but i feel like I'm boiling.

_ DESTROY YOUR ENEMY! _

I let out a primal roar that I didn't even know I could make and throw myself forward. Before Cold Snap can scramble back, I jab my sword through his foot and into the stage. He screams in pain and tries to jump back. My sword has him pinned though. I grin up at him, laughing. 

“I think I get the point,” I say.

What happens next is a blur for me. It's like a half remembered dream. I got out of the ice somehow. Then there's more screaming. Cold Snap's, I think. Then there's blood. And more screaming. Then cheering. 

Next thing I know, one of Weasel's goons is cleaning my hands with a towel. I'm sitting in the back room where fighters hang out before and after fights. I don't see Cold Snap anywhere. Just Weasel and his lackey.

“Holy shit kid. That was brutal,” Weasel says. He laughs like someone that just found a hundred dollar bill on the ground. Like it's too good to be true, but there it is being undeniably true. “If I had known you had that kinda shit in you I wouldn't have wasted time with those small fries.”

“Ugh. My head hurts…” I groan, clutching my temples. It's like there's a gunshot reverberating in my skull. 

“We'll get you some aspirin with your power bars,” Weasel says. He's talking fast, like he always does when he's excited. “I've got plans. Big plans. Big big plans. You and me are gonna go far, Jen.”

“Ren,” I correct, rubbing that spot on my forehead. You know the one. It's like above your eyes but more on the outside of your head. Like right before your hair. Yeah, that spot.

“Whatever.”

“What happened out there?” I ask, trying to clear the fog in my brain. 

“What happened? You disarmed that punk! It was wild! He had you on the ropes, but you underdogged the hell out of him and made us a buttload of cash in the process!” he answered, laughing again. “Come back next weekend, okay? We've gotta keep this gravy train rolling!”

“Uh. Yeah, okay. Sure,” I say, screwing my eyes shut. “Can I home now?”

“It'll be an hour or so till I can get you your cut,” Weasel says, scratching his chin. 

“Just … give it to me next week. I need a nap or something,” I say, pushing the goon away and climbing to my feet. 

Weasel shrugs, pulling out a cigarette and, after a moment of fighting with a zippo, lights it. “Okay, sure. Whatever. I'll see you next week.”

I give him a half hearted wave and slip out the back door. The sun had long since gone down, and this part of town is all but abandoned. Meaning no one sees me when I take off at a run. Within moments, I'm moving at inhuman speeds, easily thirty mph. Heading towards home. For the first time since I got my powers, I'm actually eager to get there. 


End file.
